


Life After Death

by MinteaOwO



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Ghosts, Alternate Universe - Grim Reapers, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Non-Despair, Angst, Eventual Relationships, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Moving On, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, kind of, my own take on how the afterlife works
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-21
Updated: 2017-03-22
Packaged: 2018-10-01 03:08:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10179326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MinteaOwO/pseuds/MinteaOwO
Summary: Everything was finally going right in Amami's life.Unfortunately fate always seems to have other plans.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So if you're one of the people who is also reading my other fic "Inescapable" and wondering why I'm starting a new fic when I still haven't updated that yet, well I haven't exactly finished the game... So its kind of hard to write about something that I'm not 100% certain on.
> 
> (I'll probably talk more about this later on that fic when I do post the new chapter)

Amami slowly blinked his eyes open, wincing as the sunlight streaming through the window hit him. He muttered a curse under his breath for forgetting to close the curtains the night before, blaming it on the crap ton of work the teachers were piling on.

He rolled over onto his side and looked at the alarm clock precariously perched on his bedside table. Amami squinted, his eyes blurry without his glasses. Reaching a hand out he fumbled around on the nightstand for said glasses, pushing them up on his nose. Now that he was able to see that the numbers on the clock were flashing ‘8:53’, Amami couldn't help but feel like he was forgetting about something important.

He brushed a few strands of hair back behind his ear and looked around his small apartment, hoping that something would jog his memory. Amami glanced over at his cellphone, thinking that he might have jotted something down the other day. He reached over and picked it up only to feel the thing begin to buzz wildly in his hand. He looked down at the caller ID and blanched, realizing exactly what he was supposed to be doing. Or more precisely, _where_ he was supposed to be.

Amami quickly answered the call and brought the phone to his ear. He opened his mouth, but was cut off by a loud shout.

“Rantarou! Where the hell are you!? I’ve been waiting for you for like, an hour!”

Amami drew the phone back away from his ringing ear, still able to hear the shouts from the person on the other end.

After making sure he wouldn't destroy his eardrum, Amami brought the phone back to his ear.

“Kokichi, I'm so sorry, honestly I am. I forgot to set an alarm and—”

“Well I've tried calling you maybe five other times, so why didn't you answer before?”

Amami groaned, still too tired to get into an argument with Ouma Kokichi of all people.

“I also forgot that I had put my phone on silent last night. So I never heard your calls come through.” He said, praying that this mini-interrogation was over.

There was a couple moments of silence as Ouma mulled over the response Amami had just given him, almost as though he was siphoning through it all for any traces of a lie. Which was something that Amami knew would be an incredibly foolish thing to attempt after being with the other for almost a year and a half. Not that he had made a habit of lying to Ouma, but whenever he did the purple-haired man would pick up on it instantly.

 _Perks of being a pathological liar_ _himself,_ Amami thought.

“Alright well just hurry up, even I can only hold our seats for so long.” Ouma finally replied, tone a little more reserved than before.

“Right, I'll try to be there in fifteen.” Amami said, already pushing the sheets off and hopping off of the bed.

“Alright, and I'm going to be timing you, and if you aren't here in exactly fifteen minutes, well… I’ll have to think of some other way you can repay me.” Ouma practically purred out the last bit, a light blush crossing Amami’s cheeks. He coughed, and tried to keep his embarrassment out of his voice.

“Y-yep, ok.”

Ouma laughed, a high-pitched yet pleasant sound that made Amami chuckle along with him.

“I'll see you in fifteen.” Amami said.

“I'm literally counting down the seconds.” Ouma responded, and Amami could practically see him winking like he always did after telling an intentionally bad joke.

Amami ended the call with a click and tossed the phone back onto his bed, already grabbing a pair of jeans, his favorite blue striped shirt, and a clean pair of underwear from his draws. Quickly tossing aside his pajama pants and old underwear, Amami slipped into a fresh pair of both. He then tugged on his shirt and looked in his bedroom mirror to quickly fix his hair.

Thankfully it wasn't too messed up and didn't require that much time to tame. He pushed his glasses back onto his nose, deciding that contacts would be too much of a hassle to try and put in right now. Especially since Amami was certain he'd end up trying to rush it and poke himself in the eye.

He grabbed his phone from the bed and his keys from a little bowl he had set up by the door, looking around behind him to check if there was anything else he was forgetting.

His eyes landed on a small purple and white striped box sitting out on the counter and he mentally slapped himself. It was Ouma’s birthday today, which was why they had made plans to go out for breakfast together. Amami grabbed the gift box from where it sat and stuffed it into his pocket. It fit nicely, the box only containing a little locket with pictures of him and Ouma doing stuff together inside. He smiled at the memories of when those pictures had been taken as he exited the apartment, locking the door behind him.

However the peaceful bliss of walking down memory lane was interrupted as Amami glanced at the time on his phone, biting his lip when he saw he only had ten minutes to get from his apartment over to the little cafe that Ouma was currently at. He pocketed his phone once more and walked briskly to the stairs, knowing the elevator would take way too long. He leapt down the stairs, taking two to three at a time, before reaching the bottom and racing out the door and into the lobby. Amami tried his best to not break out into a run while making his way over the building’s front door, but once he stepped outside he took off like a bullet.

Amami raced down the sidewalk, heart beating loudly in his ears. He told himself he was going to make it, that he was going to to get there on time. However as more and more people began crowding the sidewalk, those encouraging thoughts were soon dipped in negativity.

Things like, _You're not going to make it_ , and, _Just give up_ , flooded his mind. And in all honesty, Amami knew that it was rather foolish of him to even care this much about a stupid bet. So what if he didn't make it to the cafe in less than fifteen minutes? So what if Ouma won the bet? Did winning really matter that much to him?

No it did not, but the fact that he had let Ouma sit all by himself in a cafe for almost an hour _on his birthday_ no less, spurred Amami on. He wanted to win this bet not to avoid a punishment, but because he didn't want Ouma waiting by himself for any longer than necessary.

The wind whipped past his face, tugging at his green locks and his glasses. He had to hold them on his face more than once whenever they attempted to fly off.

Amami reached into his pocket as he ran and checked the time. _I only have five more minutes, and the cafe’s only a block and a half away. I think I can make it, I really think I can-_

In the couple seconds he had taken to glance down at his phone, the white cement of the sidewalk beneath Amami’s feet gave away to the black tar of the street. But he only realized his mistake as the ground beneath him shook and a loud, blaring horn bounced around inside his skull.  

Everything after that happened in bullet time. Amami turned his head and found himself staring up at a wall of white barreling towards him. He could have sworn he heard a woman screaming for him to move, but before he could even begin to jump out of the way, the white wall collided with his body and black overtook his vision.

 

~*~

 

When Amami blinked open his eyes, he felt strangely light. Almost as though he were completely weightless. He looked around him, drinking in the area and tried to make sense of everything.

He was standing in the middle of a street, and the dark sky overhead was dotted with stars.

It was nighttime, and he was just, standing in a random street all by himself? How the hell did that happen?

Amami quickly made his way over to the nearby sidewalk and tried to remember anything that could explain how he got to where he was. He squinted his eyes, hoping that maybe the static humming in the back of his mind would be cleared away if he just thought hard enough. However even after several moments of standing there with his eyes screwed shut, nothing came forward.

It was strange that he couldn't remember, anything really. He knew little incidental things like his name, his birthday, where he lived, the names of his family and friends, and so on. But when it came to why he was standing in the middle of the street, Amami had no clue.

He shoved his hand into his pocket thinking that maybe he’d have something on his phone that would jog his memory. But he was quick to draw it back out again. He couldn't remember having his phone on him, and yet Amami knew he’d never leave his apartment without it. Was it stolen? What had happened between whenever his memories seemed to cut out and now?

Amami breathed out, trying to calm his nerves. Maybe it wasn't stolen, and he had just forgotten it back inside his apartment? That was a rational and reasonable assumption, something that Amami was all too willing to want to believe. He glanced around once more in order to get his bearings and then set off in the direction of his apartment complex.

As he continued to walk, Amami noticed that the streets weren't as empty as they had at first seemed. He saw several people still walking along, minding their own business and ignoring him completely. Which was fine, not like Amami was expecting anyone to come up and start talking to him out of the blue. Although he did notice that his friendly nods and smiles kept going unreturned, their recipients staring right through him as though he was a ghost.

A weird shiver shot down his spine, but Amami shook off the thought. Some people were just assholes, and apparently they all seemed to congregate at this time of day in this part of the world. That was certainly possible, right?

He reached the apartment complex a few minutes later, shuffling in through the automatic doors behind another woman who lived a couple doors down from him. Amami smiled to her as well, but noticed that even she stared right past him. It felt like someone had taken a rock and placed it in the pit of his stomach. Something had definitely happened, but if only he could remember what.

Amami made his way over the elevator, but stopped when he came to the realization that not only had he left his phone inside his apartment, but his keys were missing as well. He suppressed a groan and walked over to the front desk, praying that they’d be able to help him out. However as Amami approached, the woman behind the desk showed no sign of noticing his presence. He cleared his throat hoping that that’d do something, but nope. She just kept on staring past him. He looked around thinking that maybe there was someone else behind him, but there was no one else anywhere near the front desk. Amami turned back to the woman, an eyebrow raised.

“Um, excuse me? I forgot my key in my apartment and…” Amami trailed off as again the woman showed no sign of noticing him. She had instead gone over to help someone else who had just walked up.

His lips curved down in a frown, his patience wearing thin. What the actual hell was wrong with everybody today!? Amami looked down at himself. He clearly wasn't invisible, so why was everyone just ignoring him? Was it all some kind of prank? Something that the whole city was in on? God he really wished he had his phone right now…

Amami took off his glasses to pinch the bridge of his nose in frustration. Maybe he could find someone else who could help him, like a janitor or something. He breathed out a sigh and went to put his glasses back on when his hand froze in front of his face. Amami moved the lenses away from his eyes and then back again, panic slowly rising each time he did this until the glasses had slipped from his shaking hand completely.

He, he could see _perfectly_ without them on. In fact, he could see even _better_ without them on. Amami stared down at the glasses just sitting there on the floor of the lobby, panic coursing through him. He then brought a hand to his chest and the other to his mouth. He breathed in and out, trying to calm himself.

However, all that seemed to do was increase his panic as he felt no breath against his palm. Amami blew out harder, but there was no longer a sensation of warm breath brushing across his hand. He clutched his other hand to his chest, but ultimately drew it away as though it had been bitten. He stared down at the hand that had been covering his heart, feeling betrayed. His heart was not racing as it should be with him this worked up.

Amami stared out at the lobby, turning in circles as his head spun. The people’s faces seemed to blur and morph until they were unrecognizable as human. His breathing was ragged in his ears, but no actual breath came out. His heart thundered wildly, but no actual heartbeat could be felt. He was a solid mass, and yet people looked through him like he was invisible. Like he was a ghost.

Amami brought his hands to his head and screamed, not caring if anyone looked at him weird. In fact that would be a good thing. It would mean that he wasn't invisible, that he wasn't a ghost. But as he looked around, no one paid him or his mental breakdown any mind. They just filtered on through the lobby; getting on elevators, talking to the woman at the front desk, etc.

Amami felt a tear roll down his cheek and drop off his chin. He watched as it fell towards the floor, only to evaporate into thin air inches before actually hitting the ground. He dropped to his knees, legs incapable of supporting him any longer. Amami placed a hand to where the tear should have landed. He felt around for any sign of wetness, anything that would indicate he was really still there, but found nothing. A choked back sob burst from his throat as he curled into himself.

Amami cried, not caring who saw or heard him, because they just physically couldn't. He was trapped in his own little bubble of sorrow, invisible to the rest of the world.

Amami had lost track of how long he had been crying, since he didn't even need to stop to take a breath, when he felt a weird tingle pool in his abdomen. He uncovered his hands to see there was a man standing inside of him. Yeah, that's right, _inside of him_. Amami felt frozen as the buzzing grew stronger, unable to do anything except stare at the legs protruding from his stomach. He opened his mouth in a silent scream, continuing to watch as the man stepped forwards, is legs phasing through Amami’s body. The static stopped as soon as the man walked away, but the experience was forever ingrained into Amami’s brain.

This was hell. He was dead, and this was his own personal hell.

He pushed himself to his feet, fumbling around for his glasses, which were right where he dropped them, and raced towards the elevators. Even though he was clearly invisible, he still just didn't want to be around the rest of the world right now.

Amami pushed at the buttons, the weird tingling feeling blossoming in his fingertips whenever he did. His fingers were just phasing through the buttons. He pulled his hand back and bit his lip hard enough that his lip should have been bleeding, but no coppery taste flooded his mouth.

He froze as another tingle raced up his spine from his chest, and upon looking down he saw a woman's hand emerging from right in between his lungs. He felt his stomach flip, and quickly pulled back. Of course this only caused him to back up into the woman, and he watched in horror as her body morphed through his. She shivered as though it had been a sudden chill, and not another person passing through her.

The elevator doors slid open with a hiss and the woman stepped on followed by several other people. Amami wasn't quite sure what spurred him forwards too, but there he found himself standing by the door, trying to avoid phasing through anyone or the walls of the elevator itself. As the door slid shut and the mechanical whirring signaled they were going up, Amami realized that if he was able to pass through just about everything else, wouldn't the same happened with the elevator? Wouldn't he just fall through the floor? However is the elevator began its ascent, he found himself still standing inside. Amami raised an eyebrow in confusion, not at all sure what to believe anymore.

So instead of focusing on that, he looked at the panel of buttons, the glowing ones signaling what floors they were going to. His green eyes slid over the panel before landing on a glowing number 9. Amami breathed out a sigh of relief. At least he had one thing going for him today.

The elevator arrived at the floor with a ding and the doors opened with another hiss. He raced out of there before anyone could phase into him again. Amami had also been expecting to drop down to the ground floor once he stepped foot off the elevator, but only rolled his eyes when he found that wasn't the case. Apparently he was invisible to the world and could pass through anything aside from the floor or ground. Well that was good to know.

Amami began the familiar walk towards his apartment door, a feeling of dread growing in his chest with every step he took towards it until he felt like he was going to topple over from the weight. He stood outside the door and stared up at the number. It all felt so familiar, and yet so wrong at the same time. The comfort he had sought from it earlier was now replaced with a feeling of foreboding.

With a shaky breath, Amami pushed forward, closing his eyes as he passed through the door. He kept them close for a few seconds after the tingling had worn off, too afraid of what he'd find. What if there was nothing there? What if they got rid of all of his stuff?

He breathed out again, shaking his head of these thoughts. He needed to open his eyes and see if these worried were true or not before getting too worked up over them. So Amami pushed past his fears and slowly opened his eyes.

The room looked almost exactly the same as he last remembered it. The same light blue paint covered the walls, and the same furniture and wall hangings decorated the floors and walls. Even the house plants he kept by the door were the same.

Amami walked over to one and ran a hand over a leaf, pulling away once the tingling began. Right, so not _everything_ was still the same.

He brought the hand to his chest and dropped to his knees again. Why couldn't he remember what happened to make him like this!? The static clouding his mind combined with the tingling in his fingers drove him to tears once more. Why was this happening to him!?

_Why, why, why!?_

Amami slammed his fist against the floor, no pain shooting up his arm. Why him!? Why now!? He brought his fist down again, the solid feeling of the ground colliding with his hand only infuriating him further.

He wanted to feel pain. He just wanted to feel something other than this damned buzzing! He just wanted—

Amami froze at the sound of a scream. His fist was hovering in mid-air, tears streaming down his cheeks. He stared down at the floor in shock, waiting to see if the scream would come again.

And it did, and not even a few seconds later was followed by the sound of furniture being banged into and things being knocked over.

Amami slowly raised his head from the ground and found himself staring into a pair of electric blue eyes. He lowered his fist to the ground, the sound of a rapid heartbeat in his ears.

The eyes, they were staring right at him, not through him. The man pressed up against wall opposite him was looking at _him_ , like he could really see Amami.

The other man shifted slightly, his eyes wide with fear.

“W-who are you? A-and what are y-you doing in my-my apartment?” He asked, voice wavering.

Amami glance behind himself at the light blue, half-expecting there to be someone else that this person was talking to. But there was nothing but the light blue wall.

“I think I should be asking you that as well.” Amami responded, voice hoarse from yelling and crying. He looked back to see that the other man was now not pressed up against the wall like Amami was a crate of dynamite ready to blow up. Although he did still have a nervousness about him, but that was perfectly understandable given the circumstances.

“E-excuse me?” The man replied and Amami sighed.

“Who are you, and what are you doing in my apartment?” Amami asked pushing himself up from the ground. He heard the other shift now that Amami was at his full height, which he noted was several inches taller than the blue eyed man.

“Y-your apartment?” The man said, confusion apparent in his voice.

“Yeah, _my_ apartment.” Amami said, looking the other guy over. Something about him seemed oddly familiar, yet he couldn't place what it was exactly.

“But I've been living here for almost 3 months,” he said then quickly added, “and this apartment had been vacant for months before that.”

“So you have no idea what happened to the previous tenant?” He rasped out, drawing a hand close to his chest.

The other man was quiet for a moment, as though contemplating whether he should answer or grab the phone and call the police. He finally breathed out a sigh, settling on the former.

“No one I asked seemed to have an answer, just that their name started with an ‘A’,” He said, eyes looking distant for a moment like he was remembering something, “and the apartment staff said they weren't legally allowed to talk me anything more than they had died.”

_It started with an ‘A’..._

“Could it have been, Amami Rantarou?” Amami asked, fearing the answer.

The blue-eyed man blinked and flinched back a little bit like the name actually meant something to him.

“Maybe, but I don't really know.” He responded, voice wavering.

There was something about his name that was unsettling this guy,and Amami intended to find out why that was.

“Well, _I’m_ Amami Rantarou.”

The blue-eyed man froze for a moment before bringing a hand to cover his mouth.

“Oh my god,” he whispered out, “is it really you?”

And now it was Amami’s turn to pull back confused. The man noticed this and quickly added on, “It's me, Iidabashi? We had a couple of classes together in high school?” He looked at Amami hopefully.

The green-haired man looked back at the other, things now starting to fit together.

“Kiibo?” He asked finally, and the other nodded, awkwardly rubbing the back of head.

“Yeah, I  had completely forgotten that you all used to call me that.” He said with a smile.

This was honestly the most insane couple of hours Amami had ever had. First he wakes up in the middle of the street, next no one can see or hear him, then people are walking through him like he's a ghost, only to find out that he actually is a ghost, and finally his old high school friend is living in his apartment and is the only person who can see him. He shakes his head, glancing back to find the happy smile had slipped from Kiibo’s face.

“But, then that would mean that you’re… _dead_.” He whispered out the word like it was a curse. Amami felt a chill run down his spine.

“Yeah, I guess you’re r-right— ” Amami broke off as the world around him spun, the static blanketing his mind being torn away and leaving him to relive everything he had forgotten.

_The sidewalk had changed into the street so quickly, and I didn't even have time to react before that truck was right in front of me, and-_

Amami screamed again, wrapping his arms around his body as waves of pain threatens to rip him apart. He could barely hear the sound of the other man rushing to his side over the pseudo-sound of his bones breaking apart.

_And Kokichi was in that cafe waiting for me. I was supposed to be there for him on his birthday, not dying in the street like, like, roadkill._

Amami felt his stomach turn and he gagged, certain that if he were still alive he would have thrown up all over the floor.

 _If_ he were still alive.

Because he wasn't anymore. He was dead. He had been dead for an entire year.

“Oh my god! Are you ok!?” Kiibo’s panicked voice finally reached Amami’s ears. He slowly turned his head to look up at where the man was hovering over him, hand on Amami’s shoulder and blue eyes filled with worry.

Amami wanted so bad to lie to Kiibo and say that he was fine. He wanted to run from the apartment and never look back. But he couldn't bring himself to do it.

So he just shook his head and curled in on himself again, letting his sobs fill the void in his mind the static had left.

Eventually he had calmed down and just lay on the floor, curled up in a ball. He physically didn’t feel tired, but emotionally he was exhausted and it wasn't long before he felt his eyes beginning to close.

Somewhere in the background he heard Kiibo asking if he was doing better now, but Amami was already too far off in the land of sleep to answer.

Maybe, just maybe, when he opened his eyes, all of this would have been some silly dream and he'd continue on with his life. Amami smiled, letting that thought blanket him and peacefully lull him off to sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry that this took so long to post, writer's block hit me hard...

_He sat straight up as he heard the sound of the office door click shut behind him. As his boss entered the room, the life was sucked right out of the air leaving it dry and suffocating. Good thing he didn't actually need to breath or he’d have surely passed out from the lack of oxygen and the stress by this point._

_His boss silently made her way across the office and stared him down as she took her seat. He looked up into her sharp red eyes, feeling much like a fly ensnared in a spider’s web._

_She remained silent for a few moments more, sifting through a few cream-colored folders before stopping on one that he could only assume was his. With pristinely manicured nails, she plucked it free of it the stack and without any notice, slammed it down onto the desk. He jumped in his seat, completely caught off guard by the sudden outburst._

_“I want you to tell me right now why I shouldn't have you dragged through the streets by your ears and then thrown into Oblivion for all of the trouble that you've caused me.” She snapped, voice sharp like the edge of a sword. He only squirmed, even more, mouth opening and closing as he floundered about for what to say. Her eyes continued to burn a hole right through him, which in turn made it only that much harder to find something to soothe her._

_“Well? Do you have anything to say, or are you going to just sit there like a deer caught in a pair of headlights?” She said, words dripping with venom._

_“U-uh, I’m so sorry. I truly am—”_

_“It's a little late for sorry!” She cut in and he nodded, squeezing his hands together in his lap._

_“R-right, and I k-know that,” he let out a breath and tried to call himself a little, “but I didn't know what else to do in that moment, ma’am.”_

_His boss studied him quietly, analyzing his every word and movement like a hawk. She opened the file up and flipped to a page near the back._

_“On June 21st of this year, you were tasked with the collection of the soul belonging to Amami Rantarou, correct?” She asked, tone still piercing. It took everything in his power not to flinch away._

_“Yes, that's correct, ma’am.” He replied._

_“And in the report that you turned in, you have written that you did in fact successfully retrieve this man’s soul. Now is this correct?”_

_“Y-yes, ma’am.” He said, faltering slightly. Her red eyes narrowed as to her his little moment of hesitation had been more like 10 minutes of hesitation._

_“However, when I checked the report of the Admissions officer on duty at that time, they had nothing documented on the location of Amami Rantarou’s soul.” She said, leaning forward in her chair slightly. “Now does that seem strange to you, or is it just me?”_

_His fist clenched in his lap once more, and he bit his lip reflectively. This was it. There was no way he could deflect this any longer._

_“No, it's not just you, ma’am.” He replied, practically whispering it out. Thankfully his boss didn't feel the need to stoop so low as to make him repeat what he had said louder. It was clear from the way that he was practically a puddle shaking around in his seat that her point had been made._

_So instead, she leaned back in her chair and breathed out a soft sigh, some of her anger escaping along with it._

_“Why did you lie? And on an official report no less…” She asked, voice sounding so tired. He felt guilty, now knowing how much stress his intentional mistake had caused for his boss. For as ruthless as she could be at times, there was a softer side to be seen as well. And while they may not need to breathe, eat, or sleep— souls could still become restless and stressed out. Even in the afterlife, things weren't always as picturesque as most mortals thought it would be._

_He looked down at his hands, palms clammy, and shrugged._

_“I honestly have no idea why I did it, ma’am.”_

_He tensed up as she let out another long breath._

_“You really don't have any idea what kind of position you’ve put me in by doing this.” She said._

_Silence hung heavily in the air between them, stretching on for what felt like hours._

_It had been so foolish of him to lie about collecting a soul as it was so easy to go back and check._

_No, actually it had been so foolish of him to even allow the soul to remain attached to the place of death in the first place. If he had just cut that red thread like he was supposed to, he wouldn't be sitting here in his boss’s office feeling like a child caught with their hand in the cookie jar._

_He’d be a fully-fledged Reaper, able to do as he pleased and with no one but Death himself to report to._

_His boss coughed, drawing him out of his head. He looked back up to find her staring at him, but no longer with a look like she was trying to burn a hole through his skull. Her look was more contemplative like she was thinking long and hard about something. Finally, she stood up without any warning and made way across the room to a line of filing cabinets. He turned around in his seat so that he could watch what exactly it was that she was doing._

_Her finger drifted from drawer to drawer before stopping on one near the bottom of the second cabinet. She pulled open the drawer and quickly pulled out a few folders, tucking each one neatly under her arm. She kicked the drawer closer with her heeled shoe and made her way back to her desk._

_She spread the folders out in front of him, not saying a word through the entire process. He looked at her, waiting for and explanation as to what these files were for._

_After a moment to collect herself, she sat down again and began._

_“Like I said, I've been out in a unique position, and there are a number of ways that we could handle this problem.”_

_“We?” He asked, only to be quieted once more with a pointed look._

_“Yes, we. Ultimately it's going to be your decision, but we will both be affected by whatever it is that you end up choosing.” She explained and placed a hand onto the first folder. “Now, the first option is to simply ignore the problem. In my opinion, this is without a doubt the worst one for the both of us as we are eventually going to have to deal with this.”_

_He nodded to indicate that was following along, and she continued, moving her hand to the second and last folder. “Of course that means that this is our only true option.” She paused and pulled out a few sheets of paper from the folder, laying them out on the desk. “That option being, you will try to collect the soul and slip the paperwork in before everything is finalized at the end of the month. I’ll try my best to keep things on the down-low on this end of things, but…” she trailed off looking down at the papers._

_He followed her gaze and froze. They were reports of souls escaping collection and continued to wander Earth as something akin to a ghost._

_“His dying wish might have already turned his soul into a spirit, and old luck to you if that's the case.” She said as she began to clean the papers away._

_The boon had been dropped; he had a month to track down this possibly wandering spirit and get it to cross over. He ran a hand through his dark hair, blowing out a breath._

_“Relax. Once you enter the Human Plane, time will slow down by a large margin. So really, you have almost a whole year to find this guy’s soul.” She said with a small smile. It was so weird to find himself smiling along with her as he made his way out the door when not even a few minutes ago he had been ready to melt under her gaze._

_He shook his head and straightened his coat. His chance to become a fully-fledged Reaper wasn't as unattainable as he had initially thought walking into the office today. If anything, it really did seem like he had nothing to worry about._

_Because honestly, tracking this soul down was going to be as easy as pie._

_I mean, he did have an entire year to do it after all._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So if you know who my fave NDRV3 characters are, I'm sure you can figure out who this character is...

**Author's Note:**

> Why do I love making Amami suffer so much?
> 
> (Also Amami wearing glasses has become like my own personal headcannon at this point uwu)


End file.
